Jack of Knaves
by JerriMaverick
Summary: She was found tied to a bed with silk neckties that were so splattered with blood that color was not discernible. The bed was scattered with Jack of Spades, and plastered to her right breast with blood from the wound under it, was a Joker.
1. Chapter 1: In Which We Meet The Victim

So. New story from me, Jerri Maverick. First one in a long time and in a totally new section then I'm used to. However, with the sudden interest of Batman come back, my own obsession with the Joker came back and a story soon followed. I hope to be able to write out the entire story, instead of writing 8 chapters then abandoning it because I get distracted by another story idea. Luckily, this is the only story floating around in me brain at the moment, so yay!

Disclaimer: If I owned Batman I would be a very happy girl. But I don't. Hell, I don't _know_ who owns Batman. And besides, I would only want the bad guys, cause behind all the sturm and bat-o-rangs, Batman's just a little boy in a playsuit, crying for mommy and daddy! It'd be funny if it weren't so pathetic. (Disclaimer in disclaimer: I modified the line from Return of Joker.)

Note: Harly Quinn is dead. I don't know how she died, but in this story she is el dead-o. Maybe a story of that will come into my brain and I'll work it into this story somehow. Only if my brain thinks it though.

**And here…we…**_**go**_**!**

_8675309_

Joker straddled the woman he had just finished tying to the headboard with a couple silk neckties he had found in the dresser beside the bed. Green and purple silk neckties. The Joker smiled a grin that was only partly manic. It only stretched across 15 teeth, instead of all the way to his molars like his best maniacal smiles did.

He gazed down at the young woman. Really, she couldn't have been called a woman, she couldn't have been older then 20. But her taste in entertainment must have run in the same gauntlet as his own, apparent by the many and various knives that Joker had found in the kitchen during his little sweep of the apartment that she and her boyfriend lived in together. Now the smile went wider and if anyone, any_bat_, would happen to have crashed through the large window to the right of the bed, they would have been witness to the unraveling of the grin so widely known of in the city of Gotham, and even the world.

Joker trailed the knife he held in his left hand down the girl's small pert nose, getting a feel for it under the blade, then pressed the steel between the full lips of her small mouth. He thought about putting a smile on the innocent face, but decided he wanted to have some fun first. He pulled the knife down the pale smooth neck and into the collar of the huge sleeping shirt that was the only clothing Joker could see at the moment, then slowly sliced through the thin cotton material, being careful to only cut the material and not the tender skin underneath. It wouldn't be fun to break in a new toy with out it knowing, he reasoned.

When he was finished with the shirt, he was careful in cutting off the sleeves as well so the girl in question would have absolutely no protection between her flesh and his steel. Lowing his gaze from the girl's arms and throwing the decimated shirt into a dark corner at the same time, the Joker's eyes and grin widen again with pleasure. Underneath the hideous, large, and unshapely shirt hid a body that Harly, Devil rest her soul, would have been jealous of. Oddly enough though, at least to Joker, who could never and would never understand the female mind, she was wearing a bra under the tee. (A/N: Am I the only girl who does this? Pray to god that I'm not…) It was purple striped, with yellow lace around the edges. It fit perfectly with the rest of the room's color scheme, purple and green with accents of yellow.

Joker pressed the point of the knife into the flesh of her right breast. "It wiggles." He chortled. He lifted the knife to the other breast. "And it jiggles. But it _sure _ain't JELLO! He-He!"

Joker jumped off the girl and stood still for a moment, letting his giggles pass before heading for the door. The girl could wait for the moment, right now he had business to attend to. From the living room banging and muffled yells for help could heard. The boyfriend had woken up.

A little while later, Joker walked back into the bedroom, where the color scheme couldn't be seen anymore by the dying winter sunlight. Wiping the blade of a knife he had found in the small but well used kitchen onto a crisp purple handkerchief, Joker stood at the bottom of the bed, contemplating the girl before him.

While busy taking care of the nuisance, there had been an untimely but very eye-opening telephone call for Ms. Jacqueline Smith.

_8675309_

"She's a bit tied up at the moment." The Joker snickered, eyeing the pad of paper on the stand beside the phone. He picked it up, shifted the telephone to the other ear, and replaced the bloodied knife in his left hand for a pen. "But I _could _take a message."

"Alright then, could you please tell her that the vest, shirt and coat of the Joker outfit are complete, but could she please send in the lower measurements again? It would appear that those measurements have been lost somewhere."

"…need measurements of pant-ular region. Got it." Joker slammed the telephone piece back onto the receiver and waltzed over to the quivering heap of human that was the male tenant of the apartment. "You're girlfriend got a thing for me?"

_8675309_

All trace of red was gone from the knife, and it sparkled. Or would have sparkled had there been light. The Joker's gaze fell upon on the breathing form that was laying on the bed which took up half the room. The female hadn't moved a hair since his untimely departure. Moving closer, Joker placed the used knife back in his pocket while extracting one with a longer blade with his other hand. She was finally starting to wake up when the Joker finally got close enough to see in the gloom her matching panties to her bra. In one quick motion the Joker straddled her, placed his right hand over her eyes and his left hand to lightly press the shiny blade into her throat.

"Hello." He breathed into her ear.

The girl's eyes opened under Joker's hand, her eyelashes brushing up against the leather of his gloves. She stiffened, struggled against her restraints and attempted to buck Joker off her. She started to scream, but the sudden pressure of the serrated teeth of the knife on her throat caused her to stifle it before she could get any body into it.

"Now, do you promise to behave?"

She froze, her eyes going wider if possible under Joker's hand and whispered, "Yes."

Joker giggled and the girl under him started to shake. He smiled. The sweet smell of fear was radiating from her lithe form and it had been Joker's last psychologist that had said he needed to experience life more. And if his last psychologist had been Harly Quinn well, so be it.

He leaned in for a closer whiff of the intoxication aroma. His nose touching hers, he could feel her quiver. He took a large intake of air, letting the smell wash over him. Joker was about to let a witty and horrible joke out between his ruby lips when he paused. Underneath the smell of fear, other, stronger notes could be made out.

_Arousal._


	2. Chapter 2: In Which The Fun Starts

Hello people's! It is I, your loving master and ruler of all things awsome. First off, I would like to apologise for any words that are smooshed together likethis. I typed thischapter on my laptop and the space bar is a big pain in the ass to use.

Also, in this chapter you will read the names of a couple of medicines. I would like to explain how to pronounce one of these names. Salicylic Collodion. I will assume (even though it makes an ass of u and me) that you can pronounce hesecondpartof this name. The first part however...I know that it lookslike, at first glance, that you would pronounce it Sa-Licy-Lic. I assure you,that's **WRONG**! But don't worry, that's what I thought was its name at first glance too. However, I believe that you pronounce it Sali-Cy-Lic.

So that was my authors note for this chapter, hope you readers enjoy it and know that I am already writing chapter 3 in my notebook.

_And here...we...**GO**_

**_JackofSpadesJackofKnaves_**

Joker leaned back, smiling and fighting his giggles. Everything was going according to plan, except, of course, for the bothersome boyfriend, but he had been the appetizer to Ms. Smith's main course.

Keeping her eyes covered Joker took the took the knife from her throat, laying it beside him and taking a very small, but very sharp medical grade scalpel out of his coat's inner breast pocket. As Joker's weight sifted on her lap the girl moaned and tried to buck him off again.

"Now, my dear," Joker cackled. "What did I tell you about behaving?"

He pressed the scalpel into the soft skin of her right cheek, with enough pressure to break the skin but not enough to rip through the soft underlying of muscle. Jacqueline didn't reply, if she did the movement would have caused the sharp instrument to go deeper into her flesh. Joker clicked his tongue in disapproval. "Now you're really not behaving. I'll have to teach you a lesson." With a sudden swipe Joker pulled the scalpel through the soft flesh, not bothering about how deep he went.

The girl screamed when she was cut, and the Joker slammed his right hand over her mouth, uncovering her eyes for the first time. Even in the darkness of winter night there could be no mistaking the sharp curve of Joker's jaw, the wideness of the maniacal grin that was on his features, stretching his ruby red lips to ghoulish proportions, and the green curly hair that had fallen into his face. After a moment of silent, where the Joker wondered whether she was blind or something, Jacqueline's attempts to scream continued.

Joker laughed manically and laughed even harder when the girl's eyes opened so wide it looked like she had no eyelids at all. While he was laughing he placed the blade back onto her streaming face.

"Now (He-He-He!) Girlie. You're (Ha-Ha!) going to (Heh!) behave alright?" The knife was unsteady and kept almost going into her eye. Joker noticed this and he attempted to sooth her. 'Don't (heh) worry about that!" He exclaimed, "It's all about the look. Can't let my buddies down can I?" Her eyes spoke volumes her mouth couldn't. "You know my buddies!' Joker mimed guns. "Bang! Bang! Bang! Bad guy dead! Bang! Bang!" With each 'bang' Joker slammed her head against the headboard. "You get it? Cops! And of course, can't forget ole Batsy! Whoosh!"

Joker threw his arms back, lifting his coat tails in an attempt to mimic Batman's cape. Once his hand cleared her mouth, Jacqueline started to scream for help once more, but the quick return of the knife to her throat silenced her.

"Now." Whispered the Joker menacingly into her ear. "We don't want any of that. We don't want anyone to interrupt our fun do we? I'm going to remove the knife, and if so much as a whimper exits your mouth I will peel the flesh from your skull. Understand?"

Her eyes said it all but she nodded, being careful to limit the amount of flesh that moved on the knife.

"Good." Joker was true to word and removed the scalpel. Jumping off her prone form, he started to rummaged around the small bedroom, looking for a light switch. Joker quickly found one, saying "Let there be light!" as he flicked it.

The lamp on the bed stand came on and the girl flinched as her eyes adjusted to the sudden light. Joker looked around the small bedroom. The bed took up a majority of the small space, but there was still room for a moderately sized dresser, the same one he had taken the ties from. On the dresser sat a home DJ station, and piled around it were records, possibly hundreds of them. Skipping over to the aforementioned dresser and DJ station, Joker read the name of the record that was already on it.

"Hmm…." he mused, placing the stylus on the record once more. "Libera Me by Faust." He started the machine turning and the record began to spin. "Nothing beats begging for mercy in Latin, am I right?" The Joker twisted on his feet to face the bed and Jacqueline, who was attempting to loosen the knots around her writs.

As the music filled the room in a bass solo, Joker walked to the bed and sat down on the edge of it conducting an imaginary orchestra and city choir.

"You know," he said, his eyes closed, still orchestrating the music as the first solo ended and the women's part began. "Many people don't seem to know this, but I'm quite an intellectual." he stopped suddenly and turned to face his prisoner. "Is it the clothes? Must be. But _you…"_ He leaned over_, _forcing her to face him, his thumb digging into the jagged cut on her cheek. "you _like _the clothes. Don't deny it, I answered the phone and heard about your little costume. The clothes make the man you know, so if you like this," He waved a hand over his front, "_façade,_ then," He leaned forward until his mouth was at her ear. "you must like me."

Joker smiled as the small body under him shivered. Leaning back he picked up both the serrated knife and scalpel, pondering over them. The Joker finally, after much deliberation and thought, put the serrated knife back down and got in his original position above Jacqueline once more.

"Look at me." he growled. When she didn't, he roared it. "LOOK AT ME." She dare not too. "There, was that so hard?" He stroked the blood caked right side of her face tenderly with his left hand. 'We're going to have to do something with that cut." He said thoughtfully. "Can't have you with some meaningless scar upon that pretty face can we? Nope…" He thought a few more seconds, continuing to stroke her tear streaked bloody face.

Then, with out any warning, he switched the scalpel to his dominate hand, twisted her head to the right to get better aim at her already wounded cheek, and sliced into her cheek once more. This time Jacqueline did scream, first from the surprise, but as the pain of having a scalpel forced all the way through her tender cheek and the underlying muscle down into a curve hit her, she screamed harder and louder then anytime before in her life.

As her screams dissolved into tears and hiccupy sobs, Joker admired his handy work. AJ was now artfully carved into her cheek, the blood mixing with her tears and dripping down onto her heaving chest.

"There there," mocked the Joker, gently patting her wounded cheek. Jacqueline started sobbing harder and pulling away as his long bony fingers accidentally went into the wound.

Joker sighed, then got up and exited the room. When he returned, Jacqueline's sobs had quieted. But she still flinched as he sat back down on the bed, holding the small first aid kit that Jacqueline kept in the bathroom. As he opened the case and started to clean the girl up said, quietly, " You know, you should be thankful to me."

Jacqueline didn't say anything, but her eyes flashed in anger. The Joker nodded, his green curls bouncing in his face. "It's true. Now, instead of a hideous scar upon that beautifully sculpted face, you have a work of art!" He turned back to the kit and pulled out a needle and thin black thread.

Being careful to even small stitches, Joker pulled the two jagged edges of the wound together. Jacqueline hissed in pain and tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but she held back. "And think about it," he continued, "if you survive this, which I expect you to, you'll have a conversation piece." He knotted the end of the tread and cut it with the small silver scissors that were also in the case. "So, Jack, really, I gave you a blessing."

"My _name _is Jacqueline." She said through clenched teeth, her eyes shut tightly against opening.

Joker clucked his tongue in disapproval. "Now Jack," He placed the kit on the nightstand beside the scalpel. "Don't be disagreeable." He stared into space. "We both know that under that pretty little façade of manners and good moral virtues of Ms. Jacqueline Smith, lies someone _much _more interesting. And don't say I'm wrong my dear, I've read your file."

Jacqueline's eyes snapped open as the Joker pulled a manila folder from an inside pocket of his snappy purple blazer.

"Let's see…"He flicked through it. "6 charges of physical assault, 5 charges arson, later dropped, 13 charges grand theft, 4 charge grand theft auto, and ooo…! 2 counts manslaughter!" He shook his finger in disapproval but the massive grin on his face said other wise.

He returned his gaze to the folder. "When you had a court assigned psychologist evaluate you because you pled insanity, you were found to suffer from delusions, paranoia, psychosis, multiple personality disorder and several other mental problems. It was under the other personality that you committed your crimes, so you were allowed to go to a shrink and get all better." Joker sauntered to the bed and sat down, continuing to read from the folder. "Your other personality was first documented at the tender age of 5, when you were found smashing frogs with hammers. When asked about it later, you said you didn't remember doing it. The other personality was kept under control, as well as your other, shall we say, _problems_, with a variety of medications, including Risperidone, Phenylephrine, Salicylic Collodion, Selenium, and Promethazine." He whistled, thumbing through the 7 pages of meds, each page holding 5-7 different types of medications and what they treated. "That's a _lot _of medication. Hell, that's even more then what I'm on! That is, more then what I'm on between the time I'm captured and the time I escape." The mad man closed the folder and placed it back in the pocket he had taken it from. " Well, Jack, you are one messed up S.O.B."

Jacqueline stared at the man before her with a passion and hatred that she had never felt before. When she spoke it was through gritted teeth, both from anger and the fact that if she moved her jaw the stitches leaked. Never the less they did, and Jacqueline could feel blood dripping from her cheek once more as well as going into her mouth.

"As I've said before. My name is Jacqueline. That is the name on my birth certificate, on my student I.D. from college and it's on my lease."

Joker wasn't listening, to busy looking through her record collection. He had grown tired of listening to Latin songs, even if they were about the pain of death and hell. He was intrigued by the number of classical and old jazz and blues records she held, many of them looked like original pressing. One record caught his eye however and he smiled. Placing the record onto the box on the turntable and starting it, Joker skipped back to the bed and plopped down on it, just as the Best of Depeche Mode come on.

"I' tell ya what." Joker said, taking a deck of cards from his pocket and shuffling them. "Let's play a game. You win, I stop my fun, call the cops, go quietly with them back to Arkham and you will never see me again. But if I win," He turned his green eyed stare to Jacqueline, who held his gaze. "I get to do whatever I want to you, then leave without telling a soul. And who knows how long before someone finds you." He dealt the cards into 4 facedown piles. "Game on?"

Jacqueline thought for a moment before sighing. What other choice did she have?

"Game on."

"Oh joy!" Joker cried gleefully. "Now," he picked up one of the small piles of cards and shuffled it. "In this deck there are four jokers. If you choose one of these jokers, you win. Any other card, I win. To make it easier, you'll pick one card from each of these piles, then pick one of the four." He fanned the cards out between his fingers, backs to Jacqueline, and held it up to her right hand. "Got it?"

Jacqueline nodded and picked a card at random. She did that to the other piles as well, knowing that her chance at picking the jokers needed were slim to none. Joker looked at the cards she had picked and giggled. 'It would appear that you have picked 4 of a kind!" He shrugged. "they might be all 4 jokers or they might not be." He held the cards up to her mouth this time. "To late to back down now I'm afraid. Choose."

So Jacqueline did, taking the card into her mouth and spitting it out quickly. It landed face up and the Joker started laughing manically and her horror. It was a Jack of Spades.

Joker dropped the other cards and stood up, scattering the remainder of the cards, which were all Jack of Spades, except for the promised 4 jokers, reading from her file once more.

"The other personality only appears to be brought out when Jacqueline sees a Jack of Spades from a normal deck of cards. The personality is extremely dangerous, suffering from sudden bi-polar like emotion changes, and seems to have no morals what so ever, only wanting to please herself. Jack, as the other personality is requesting to be called even though questions have revealed that the personality is in fact a female, also has an obsession with the equally mentally disturbed man Joker, who suffers from many of the same illnesses. All of this knowledge is unknown by Jacqueline."

Joker finished reading from the psychologist's evaluation. "Would you happen to agree with all this Jacqueline?"

Jacqueline didn't look up, still transfixed by the card. Joker sighed in frustration, then snatched the card out of her view. With the card gone Jacqueline looked up, hissing in anger. It stopped when her eyes fell upon the Joker.

"Oh…_Joker_." she sighed, her body going boneless. She tried to reach out to him, but the now blood spattered restraints held. She looked from the silk restraints (which were starting to wear away her skin from her constant moving) to the Joker, who stood smiling over her, to her bloodied torso, sighing with glee.

Joker smiled wider and stepped forward, grabbing the almost forgotten scalpel off the side table. He climbed on top of her and ran the sharp steel over the crude stitches on her face. She hissed in pleasure soaked pain, arching her back.

"You like that?" Joker asked rhetorically, ghosting the medical tool down her neck and between her breasts with enough weight behind it to cut slightly into the skin.

Jacqueline panted. "Y-Yes."

"Hmm…." Joker tapped his chin, trying to decide something. He looked up at the girl. "One or two?"

"What?"

"That'll do."

He plunged the scalpel into the spongy tissue of her right breast. Jacqueline screamed as the Joker used quick hard strokes to cut a design into her skin, arching her back almost top , breaking point with the sensory overload of pleasure and pain.

When Joker was done blood was streaming like a waterfall all down her front, ruining her bra and panties to beyond any type of cleaning and Jacqueline was a crying/panting/begging for more mess.

"More huh?" Joker twirled the scalpel between his long fingers.

"P-p-_please_!" She begged.

Joker shrugged. "I could never refuse a lady." then he smiled nastily and continued the cut he had made between her breast down to her navel. Jacqueline passed out in the throes of the largest orgasm she had ever felt.

**_JackofSpadesJackofKnaves_**

It was the smell that as the breaking straw on Mrs. Freed's back. She had put up with the bizarre banging's and the screaming from a few night's ago, but if she couldn't handle the smell, then she supposed that she shouldn't expect her tenants to either. As she entered the apartment with the small skeleton key she kept with her at all times she had enough time to wonder what unearthly thing to be making the smell, before she started to scream

**_JackofSpadesJackofKnaves_**

Jacqueline woke up to the sound of a heart monitor's gentle beeping and the slow steady drip of an I.V. She didn't open her eyes straight away, enjoying the peace and quiet and the murmurings that were coming from under her door. Her peace was shattered when the door was thrown open with a bang.

_How come got an in entire freakin' __**Fortress **__of Solitude_, she thought annoyed as what sounded like three sets of footsteps came into the room, _and I can't get a freakin' __**hospital **__room? _

The footsteps stopped to the right of her bed. "Are you _sure _this can't wait until she wakes up naturally?" sounded like a male orderly to Jacqueline, or perhaps nurse. Definitely not a doctor.

"Yes." A second voice stated simply, sounding vaguely familiar to her. "We need to know for certain who did this to her."

The orderly sighed, then leaned over to mess with her I.V. drip. Before he could get there though, Jacqueline feigned waking.

"Was wit all da bangin'?" she asked, rubbing her eyes, pretending to be confused.

The orderly retreated back.. "Well, she's awake and I guess you guys won't be needing me so I'll just go then…" he ran out of the room.

"What's his malfunction?" she voiced, looking at her two remaining visitors. "Oh!"

Commissioner Gordon smiled at the girl as Batman just seemed to stare at her. " Hello Ms. Smith, me and my companion were wonder whether we could talk to you."

"Of course, exclaimed Jacqueline, "please, pull up a chair if you need to. And please," she smiled, feeling a pulling and tearing sensation in her right cheek, "call me Jack."


	3. Chapter 3: In Which The Victim Goes Home

So…Chapter 3 now, which is pretty good for me. Sad yes, but I digress… So I've recently learned about the Stats portion of my page. Over 300 readers. 5 reviews. The fact that I know people are reading this makes me feel good, but please leave reviews. They make me feel even better. Heck, you can flame me if you wish, most of them I like to read because they are funny. Constructive criticism is appreciated as well.

To my few, but encouraging, reviewers:

**From 1st Chapter:**

**DreamingDaze**: Thank you for the complement about Joker's euphemisms! I actually had a hard time writing him because I needed to get the perfect balance of madness and humor.

**Syjack**: I'm sorry about breaking your heart about Harley! :'( However, if I have a hard time writing Joker, then I have a harder time writing Harley Quinn, if only because I don't particularly like her. She was to 19th century white sharecropper, with all her Mista J's and things with that. Although she did have some funny lines in the various animated movies.

**Piratestorm**: So…the Joker suit again…I don't really now where I'm going with that, I just needed a way for the Joker to get into her life more. I think I'll be able to write it in somehow though, it should work it's way in about chapter 4, if not this chapter. (at the time of typing this Authors note, I've only finished about half of the chapter in my notebook.)

**Fair Trade Organic: **He-He! I know right? It's really my kink about that that made me start this story. I figured it couldn't be a simple one-shot, because I liked the character of Jacqueline/Jack so much.

**From Chapter 2:**

**Quarter Queen:** I know right? I just really needed away to show the drastic difference between the two personalities of Jacqueline. Plus, who doesn't expect a little bit of bloodletting in a story about a complete loony and his perfect (female) counterpart. Batman being his perfect male counterpart of course.

So… I wrote this chapter on a steady diet of classical music, the Grand Ole Oprey's radio station, and, when typing, horribly obnoxious but so cool techno beats that I find on youtube and a he-LARIOUS pod cast called the Maniacal Rage Podcast. It's funny and if you use iTunes then I totally recommend them.

Enough about me and my music choices, but before we get to the story…I HAVE A JOB!! This means that I will be restricted to how fast I can type up my chapters and all that jazz, but I will be typing as fast as I can after being on my feet for 7 hours with one 20 minute break.

And last thing (I know, I know…) In the last chapter, I meant to say 'How come **Superman's **got an in entire freakin' Fortress of Solitude…' and so on.

Okay, I promise that's it! Much loves to my reader and potential reviewers!

**Here…we…go****!**

Jacqueline, or Jack as she was now asking to be called, was released from the hospital from the hospital a week later. The worst of her wounds were finally starting to heal, and as long as she didn't pick at any of the scabs that formed, she would have only minimal to moderate scarring of the hypertrophic kind.

'Like that's gunna happen." Jack thought to her self, standing outside the rebuilt Gotham City General Hospital.

The doctors had kept going on about how lucky she was, but not in the way she felt she was. They only talked about how it a miracle that whoever had done this to her (the doctors had acted like they hadn't known who had done it to her, the bastards. They obviously knew, why else would she have been visited by so many different kinds of them and nurses? It's not like she had needed an optometrist for Christ's sake.) hadn't cut to deeply, as she could have bled to death.

Again, Jack knew they were bullshitting her. She had over heard one of the nurses talking about how she had been found sewed up with black thread.

Jack tenderly stroked the soon to be scar on her cheek. Her 'attacker' (Jack rolled her eyes.) had done such a good job on the stitches on her face that the doctors had found no need to re-stitch it.

She hailed a cab and slid into it once one stopped, the smell of sweat, old leather and show polish a comfort after the week in the antibacterial and metal stench of hospital rooms. She asked the driver to take her to the corner of Corbin and 31st streets, her apartment, and he complied.

Jack stared out the window, watching the buildings pass by her in a blear as her eyes unfocused. Her hand went to her pocket to find the pack of cigarettes that she had bought at the little kiosk outside the hospital. At the time Jack hadn't thought about it, but now she wondered why the hell it would sell smokes right outside a hospital.

She pulled the small rectangular packet out of her pocket with out looking at it. Opening the top, she tried to get a cigarette out, but instead felt one thing come out. Looking down in confusion, she stared at what she held in her hands.

Inside the cigarette carton was a deck of cards.

Slowly pouring the rest of the cards into her hand, Jack stared hard at the first card in front of her eyes.

A Jack.

Jack shivered in excitement. Dropping the card onto the seat beside her, she stared at the card that was next. A Jack of Spades. She dropped that one and the next card was a Jack as well, of a different design but still a Spade. She did this one by one, staring long and hard at each card, until the seat was covered in cards. At the end of it one card remained, this one with the back to her eyes. Jack slowly turned it over.

It was a Joker.

Written on the front, the words in a scrawling loopy script, was a note.

_It's bad to smoke Jack. You don't want me to have to punish you again. _

_J._

Jack started to laugh and the cabbie looked into his rearview mirror at the sound.

The cabdriver knew who this chick was, he watched the news every night at 11 after his shift ended, and he had a general idea of what this girl had went through. Every night it seemed, a different news station was doing a report on her and how the investigation was going. The moment news of this girl got out, the investigations for the Joker almost tripled.

Somehow, and John (the cabbies name) could understand, the thought that the Joker would do this to an innocent girl (John remembered that one of the reports said that she was only 22. Just a baby in his opinion) was more then the city could stand. Batman sightings had also tripled, he must have felt the same desire to catch the man (Could he be called a man? John wondered at times.). Several groups were now petitioning that The Joker, when and if he was caught, be trialed with out the insanity plead, and other's were jumping straight to an automatic death penalty. This chick really got the cities blood pumping.

But when the chick started to laugh, John was terrified. That wasn't the laugh of a girl who suddenly started to see everything in a better light, seeing as she had survived a horrific torture session. That was the laugh of a mad woman. John didn't know how to explain it, even to himself, but that was what it was. He was certain of it.

"What's so funny?" He asked, glancing in the mirror at the girl .

Jack was silent, but held up one of the cards. At a red light John turned and his eyes widen at the cards that were scattered around his cab. All of them the same card.

"They're from him." She said softly, and John's eyes were yanked back to her face.

The girl sat, staring at a card she held in her hand, the Spade she had shown him joining the one's on the floor and seat, and John could see the roughly carved J in her cheek. She looked up at John and laughed again, her eyes wide, her mouth stretched to painful looking proportions, pulling at the stitches of the J. Her voice got louder and she said, "The police found them scattered over the bed I learned. I asked to see them, but all the officers that I talked to said that they were part of the on going investigation and that I couldn't. But here they are!" Her eyes went back to the card in her hands, her voice soft once more. "Here they are indeed! 52 Jacks, neither the same." She gathered all the cards and started to shuffle them. John's eyes went back to the road and he tried to keep the sound of her shuffling the cards out of his head.

The rest of the journey was in silence, until John announced that they had arrived at the corner she had specified.

"Here's your stop miss." He said with out looking back. "That'll be 43.29."

"That sure is a lot of money for one small trip…" Jack mused. "An _awful _large amount."

"Well…you know…price of gas…"

"Yes…I suppose that makes sense."

Jack stiffened when he heard her lean forward, not daring to look back. John had the sudden thought that if he looked back, he would find himself face to face that the girl, her face still in that horrible grin, or maybe a knife or gun or, oh dear god _or_, a sprayer of Joker Venom, she would make him like _her_ before he died.

Her breath was on his neck and John offered a small pray for forgiveness to God when she tapped him on the shoulder. Turning slowly he braced himself for death, but instead of a knife or gun or the third option he had thought of, he found a small hand trying to give him a fistful of bills.

"Can you give change back from 45?"

**Cutmelovemehateme**

The apartment had been ransacked by the police, and completely cleaned by the C.S.I. people. Jack didn't think the apartment had been this clean since the day before she moved in. Jack went straight from the door to the kitchen, praying that the C.S.I guys hadn't cleaned out her fridge in the name of investigation work. She was lucky and grabbed a random carton of what might have been Chinese take out and a root beer before heading to the couch.

Jumping onto the couch and grabbing the remote, Jack flicked on the tube and thumbed through the channels. Nothing was on, except for a couple of horrible reality shows, the Price is Right, and news. Jack settled for the lest boring thing and was about to put it on Price is Right, when the remote's batteries suddenly died.

"Shit."

So Jack dug into the carton, which turned out to be Indian not Chinese, chicken curry not fried rice, and watched the news channel the remote had died on, to lazy to get up and change the channel on the cable box. Later Jack would realize that it wasn't possible to change the channel from the box, but at the time she was just being lazy.

The news wasn't so bad, there was a report on her, about the search for the Joker and yadda-yadda-yadda. After that it got boring and Jack threw the remote at the TV, by chance hitting the off button and shutting it off. Jack sat still, not knowing what to do. The shadows started to close in on her as sunset light came through her windows.

Standing, Jack went to a light switch and flicked it. Nothing happened. She stared at the switch, then tried it again. Still nothing.

"Fuck." Jack went to the kitchen and threw open the fridge. The seemingly magical little light failed to come on. "Damn. Damn Damn. Fuck. Fuck-a-doodle-doo."

Her electricity must have been turned off. Jack slammed the fridge shut so hard the entire unit shook and Jack relished the resounding bang. She opened the cabinet next to the fridge and slammed that shut. Opened it and slammed it again. Open slam, open slam, laughing as she did so.

She moved to the cabinet that held her dishes, contemplated a plate, then hurled it down onto the laminate floor. It shattered at her bare feet, sending tiny shards into the thin flesh of her feet and ankles. Jack felt the shooting flames of pain start to lick at her body and up her legs. She threw another one, and another, getting as close to be body as she could. With each dish thrown, the fire went higher and higher up her body, until it was inside her. Pain was holding her in his grip and Jack writhed in it. With out realizing it, she started to dance with pain, waltzing to music only she could hear. She danced through the glass shards, ignoring them as they pierced her heels and went into her feet.

Jack danced with Pain, who led her into the bathroom. Eyes closed, Jack ran a bath, knowing it was her lover Pain that was getting the candles out, lighting them as the gloom of night overcame the apartment. Jack felt His hands run over her body as He undressed her, carefully removing the gauze and bandages from her cut body. Jack slid into the water, the smell of her lavender scented bath oil enveloping her, mixing with the vanilla scented bath candles, and she had never felt more at peace.

As the water burned her physically destroyed body her mind slowly started to heal, the knowledge of His love and obsession with her making her whole. The water started to turn red and coppery but Jack didn't notice, her heavy eyelids had finally closed.

**Cutmelovemehateme**

When Jacqueline awakened, she was a human sized prune, the scabs that had formed on her body had washed away and the water was red with blood, not that she could really see the water in the candle lit area.

She moved slowly and pulled a towel towards her body. Attempting to stand Jacqueline screamed out in pain a fell out of the tub and onto the cold linoleum floor, crying softly, curled with her knees to her chest, trying to ignore the pain that was all over her. Getting to her knees, Jacqueline crawled out of the bathroom, dragging the towel behind her, leaving bloody hand prints and blood streaks on the carpet.

She got into the bedroom and collapsed, crying harder. Something was happening to her, in her mind she felt something trying to get out but she repressed it. Jacqueline only remember bits and pieces of the past few days, and barely remembered being in the hospital. Jacqueline climbed onto her bed, remembering the night of her attack.

"Oh God…" She moaned, bile coming up in her throat as she remembered the feeling of the knife going into her cheek. She vomited all over the bed, and she fell back onto the floor, feeling the urge to throw up continue. Jacqueline threw up all the food she had eaten in the past few days, feeling the stitches in her cheek tear open.

**Cutmelovemehateme**

Alright, after reading Author's Note:

This Chapter ended a hell of a lot different then I had it written out in my aforementioned notebook, but this is what flowed out of ma finger tips while listening to the aforementioned techno on Youtube.

I would like to say that I'm thinking about removing the present rating and upping it to a Rated M setting, just because I don't know how much more violent this thing is going to get. You can of course review and tell me what you think of the story, or contact me at .

I would like to again say how much I appreciate the reviewers that have reviewed and that I will welcome any flames or constructive crit as well because, as I've said, flames make me think about how I can't please everyone and constructive helps me grow as a writer.

Much Loves and Hugs:

JM


	4. Chapter 4: Where The Victim Has Visitors

And here we are at Chapter 4. Sweet. 660 (at time of typing) clickers onto this story. Super sweet. This just makes me happy knowing people are atleast paying attention to this thing. It's kinda become an obsession of mine, I get home from work (which was HELL today, 8/2) and just write all my troubles away. Why so serious indeed.

Blem it all I'm in a pickle. I don't really now how this thing (I call it a thing. I don't know why. Like It's living or something. Like what you call a dog that you are grudgingly taking care of for the weekend while your friend goes to Atlantic City. I don't sound bitter do I?) in terms of how it's gunna end, but I do know that techno music makes me write violence, and I only listen to that genre when writing and typing this, so get ready for that.

I wonder how many people out there in cyberspace click on this to read my rambling on's in the beginning of each chapter. I know that it takes me at least one typing session to type all this, each session being about 2 hours. That must mean something, either that I really have no life and am trying to reach out in the firmament in hopes that people will show a kindred soul, or I just have no life. As reader, you have the choice in that opinion.

I suppose I should get to the story, but I know that half of peoples read just for the rambles. That's right, I've decided.

Ugg…blem it all to kingdom come and then come back and I'll send you there with aids. Then a third time with bird flu. And so on and so on.

Oh! Pertaining to the story! I'm upping the rating to M, just in case of serious kinky hanky-panky.

That's all and the story is coming up…..

****

NOW!

(nothing happens)

Uhhh….**NOW**!

(nothing)

Erg…NOW?!

(zip)

How bout now?

(nadda)

Great, just…. great…Hey, Bill?

Bill from back room: WHAT?

Turn the dial to the right will ya?

Bill: WHAT DIAL?

You know, the dial?

Bill: THIS ONE?

(Techno music starts to blare)

AAAHHHHH!!

(Pause)

THA'S THE ONE!

****

And here…we…go

_TheQueenOfHearts_

Bruce Wayne, as his counterpart Batman, was the that found her, blood coagulating on the bare mattress and floor once more, vomit drying in a putrid color and smell on the floor. She had her back to him, curled in a fetal position, and her sobs ripped through his exterior and right into his soul. They were the sobs of someone that had given up hope completely, someone that had lost hope in everyone and themselves, sobs that had once left his own mouth, when he felt his whole world tear apart. And like her, it had all happened in a single night.

He slowly approached her, his footsteps making no sound as he did so. Kneeling down beside the bed, he detached his long cape and gently draped it over her body, covering her naked frame. In doing so, he awoke her from the fretful half sleep she had been in. Jacqueline screamed and attempted to pull away, flinging blood drops onto Batman's cowl and onto his mouth.

Batman pulled Jacqueline to him. She tried to fight him, and in the darkness of the room he didn't blame her, but he held her tight, whispering soothing nothings into her ear, and she eventually decided that he didn't mean any harm to her and she dissolved into his armored chest, crying her eyes out.

When her tears finally subsided, she pulled away from him and he let her. She attempted to stand, whimpering as the glass cut deeper into her feet, and she fell on to the bed.

"Let me." Batman's gruff voice said and he picked her up.

Walking her into the living room, Batman glanced around it, deciding to lay her on the couch. Doing so, he took a small flash light from his utility belt and shined it down her body, focusing on her wounds and not her nakedness.

Jacqueline lay still, letting him look at how much damage had been done to her, her breathing still rapid, but slowing.

He turned his attention from her and pulled a small medical kit from his belt, replacing the flashlight. The good thing about living in a city, you were never really in the dark. When he had turned back, he saw that she had covered her body with his cloak, giving the clear message that she wanted him to deal only with her feet.

"Do you have any bandages the doctor gave you?" He asked, his gruff voice trying to sound smooth, as he poured antiseptic on her feet.

Jacqueline hissed but stayed still, fighting the urge to withdraw her wounded appendages from the mans grasp.

"You're very brave for coming back here," He remarked, bandaging her toes. He looked up at her to find her staring at him, a small smirk on her lips.

"Brave? A coward for sure. With no place to go other then here, I am forced to go to the beginnings of my end."

If Jacqueline could have seen it, she would have seen the Batman raise an eyebrow.

"Is that so…?" He finished his wrappings. "It is better to be a coward for a minute than dead for the rest of your life. I think you are brave coming back here."

Jacqueline laughed dryly, pulling herself into a sitting position and shifting the cape to cover her bodies length.

"Yeah, well, what else was I gunna do. Besides, I have to be ready to go to work in a week."

"What?" Batman sat beside her and Jacqueline stared up at him.

"You know, you might actually be human…I have to go to work or get fired. And if you could see the state of this place, you'd realize that I need what ever money that I can get."

"You shouldn't work in your condition. You've barely started to heal, and with your feet all cut up it will be impossible for you to stand for too long." He paused. "I don't remember the doctors saying anything about your feet when Commissioner Gordon and I visited you in the hospital."

Jacqueline continued as if he hadn't said anything about her feet. "I don't have a standing job. I sit at a desk and balance Bruce Wayne's business checkbook."

The Bruce Wayne part of Batman was shocked and Batman sat there for a moment with out saying anything. Jacqueline sat in the silence, rubbing her hand over the stitches on her face.

"You work for Wayne Enterprise's?" The Brooding Defender of Gotham asked soon enough.

"Uh-huh, if I'm gone for to long, the entire business might just implode." She leaned forward, and Batman did the same. "I'm not suppose to say this," she whispered, almost gleefully, "but that Mr. Wayne is the worst spender in the world in my opinion. Just last month he took the entire Russian Ballet out on a yacht he bought just for it!" She leaned back and spoke normally, staring into space. "Money is wasted on the rich just like youth is wasted on the young. What do you-" She looked back at the Bat, but he was gone, leaving with her his cape.

"Huh. What an interesting specimen of human." Jacqueline started to stand, grimacing as pain flooded her system, but managed to work through it. "I wonder what his home life is like?"

_HadMadeSomeTarts_

Bruce Wayne sat at his huge computer monitor in complete darkness, letting the light from the screen illuminate the darkness of the cave around him. On the screen was information on his current interest, Miss Jacqueline Smith.

_BecauseAThoughtCameInHerHead_

A week had past since Jacqueline's encounter with the surprisingly tender hearted Batman, and she was getting ready for her first day back at the office when she had an unexpected visitor. The knock at the door had sounded just as she had finished bathing, an experience that was still painful on her body but she couldn't go to Wayne Enterprises smelling like old blood and pus now could she.

"I'm coming!!" She called over the classical music that was blaring out of her iHome's stereo speakers. Jacqueline had had the luck to be able to call the power company, explain her… predicament… and why she couldn't have paid her bill and have turned it back on for free until she was back fully on her feet. Inwardly Jacqueline had smiled. Turning the iHome down via remote, Jacqueline yelled through the door. "If you're the Domino's delivery boy I don't have to pay you. You're over 30 min-Oh!"

It wasn't the Domino's delivery boy at her door. It was anyone but the Domino's pizza delivery boy. Standing at her door was Bruce Wayne.

The tall and handsome drink of water smiled at the girl's surprised expression. "Hello. Is this a bad time?"

Jacqueline stood staring at the man before her, before coming to her senses. " Of course not Mr. Wayne! Please, uhhh…" She did a quick look over the small apartment. "come in!" She pulled the door open all the way and stepped to the side, allowing the large statured man to come through her doorway.

"Thank you."

Bruce stepped into the small apartment, noting that it looked even worse in the day light. Every time he had come here as Batman it had been night and when they had found the girl it was day light, so it wasn't like he could suddenly vanish from the business meeting he had been in.

Jacqueline nervously watched as her bosses, bosses, bosses, bosses boss looked around her small living room. She wasn't supposed to be in the office for another hour, and even if he was going to fire her, why the hell would he come all the way uptown to do so himself?

"Can I get you something to drink Mr. Wayne?" Jacqueline asked, trying to think of what she had to offer. Nothing that would match what he was used to that's for sure…

"No, thank you Ms. Smith, I just wanted to ask you something." Bruce turned to her, smiling kindly.

"And what would that be Mr. Wayne?" Jacqueline asked, pulling the bathroom she had on even tighter, feeling the terry cloth start to chaff the stitches she had running the course of her body.

"First, I must insist that you call me Bruce."

"Oh." Jacqueline could feel blood rising in her face and she looked down, trying to calm herself down. It wouldn't be good if her stitches suddenly started to leak. "Alright, Mr. Bruce."

Bruce laughed and Jacqueline looked up, but his face was still kind and smiling and Jacqueline felt no need to worry about her employment. "That will suffice I suppose. I came here asking a favor of you."

"What kind of favor? And please, sit down." Jacqueline motioned towards the huge couch that Bruce could now see was a bright tangerine in color.

"No, I must be going, but I was wondering, I have 2 tickets to go to this opera thing, and if the classical music that was blaring from under the door means anything, I suppose you wouldn't mind going with me."

Jacqueline was at a lost for words once again. "I-I couldn't, I mean…uhhh…well…Sure." she settled on. "Why not! But-" Jacqueline thought a moment. "I have nothing I could wear to an opera."

Bruce shrugged. "Then I'll have to buy you something to wear."

"Oh! Mr. Wayne, Bruce, I couldn't let you do that for me!"

"Please! I insist. After all, it's not every day that my hardest working financial advisor gets to go to a fancy dinner and opera." Bruce started towards the door.

"Dinner?!" Jacqueline squealed as Bruce went to her door once more.

"Of course." Bruce said, smiling. "Can't be a date without dinner. I'll be over at 4. And you don't have to come into work today."

And he closed the door.

"Date…?" the word was out her mouth like a ghost and she slumped against the couch.

_ButThatJackOfSpades_

The first record of Jacqueline Smith was when she enrolled herself in the local high school when she was 16.

In Gotham she started to work for the huge Wayne empire, starting as a mail clerk, moving up to secretary and, after graduating head of her class from Thomas Wayne High School and starting her Business and Finance studies at the local community college, became a finance consultant for the company.

Moving through the ranks quickly she made it to head consultant at the age of 20, where she continued to work at now, 4 months after turning 22. At the rate she was going, she could easily become a CEO before she was 30

Bruce shook his head. He couldn't understand why such an amazing girl would have been targeted by the Joker.

_TookThemAllAway_

Jacqueline was totally unexpecting the knock at the door at 3:30. Going to answer the door in her Dockers and jeans, she threw open the door, expecting the Chinese delivery boy at best. Once again her dream of eating was vanquished.

"You again!" She said surprised. Bruce Wayne smiled.

"Indeed, me again."

He was dressed in a casual type suit, dress pants and blazer but with a printed shirt. Jacqueline looked down, expecting a pair of Chucks, but was disappointed. Dress shoes.

"Are you ready to go?"

Jacqueline looked back into the man's face and smiled shyly. "Well, since I had figured that you hadn't been what you said bout the whole date," She did air quotes. "thing, I had made plans to stay in, but…since you did actually mean it, then sure. I'll have to change…" she looked down at her shirt and shorts, both roomy and well-worn. Anything even vaguely formfitting and it chafed the stitches.

Bruce Wayne smiled again. "I told you before my dear, I'm going to buy you an entire wardrobe for this evening. Now, if you don't mind," He bowed over the top and held a hand out for hers to take, a huge grin on his face. "the limo is waiting."

_AndShotThatPrettyQueenDead_

Bruce Wayne was confused. Why was there only evidence of Jacqueline Smith only after she was 16 and enrolled in high school?

He searched for evidence of family and came up blank. There was no evidence of a birth certificate, no medical records. There had been no transfer of school records when she had enrolled, instead she took a test to see where she belonged .

She was placed in all the advanced classes as a senior, despite her being under the normal age for being a senior. Her I.Q. was in the 160's and she was a picture of mental health.

Finally, after 2 hours of searching's and having to break into more coded files then he would like to admit, he found out more about her, the so named Jacqueline Smith.

Jacqueline was indeed her first name, he found out, but that last name was as phony as Bruce felt being himself outside the bat suit.

Jacqueline Olivia Smith had been born Jacqueline Odette Spayden, the last child to be born under that name, for with her the name died. The only child of an invalid mother and an obsessive father, she grew up in decaying splendor.

As Bruce dived into her past via marriage and death certificates, school and medical records and, later, mental records, he saw a parallel to his own life, but in a twisted funhouse way.

Her mother was Viviana , the last living member of the wealthy Hermes family, who had got their money from ties with the French Revolution and the beheading of the royal family and her father was Abraham, the last male of the formerly wealthy Morgan family, of the oil owner Morgan's. Former wealth because in his younger years, he was 52 when he married the 26 year old Viviana, he had spent his wealth on bad investments. However, he had been able to take back a meek portion back, but it was still plenty of money.

Early in the marriage Viviana showed signs of mental instability, suffering from thoughts of grandeur for more then the small fortune that was actually at her finger tips. She quickly put the young pair in debt, and they were forced to dismiss their servants, till it was only them, a single cook, a pair of maids and the gardener.

After that, the marriage was strained. Viviana bonded with the gardener out of loneliness, as her husband, the dignified Abraham, was distracted with trying to revive the money in any form. A child was eventually born, Jacqueline, and Abraham was in a fury. It was in his mind that Jacqueline wasn't his, but the gardeners, a man named Charles Harper.

Abraham went into a depressed rage, becoming a recluse in the huge mansion, staying as far from the two women in his life as possible. Jacqueline grew up in his house hold with out knowing her father, except for the few times he would come out of his hiding, which was only when the important executives came to the house, when Abraham hoped to get a deal with the current oil barons.

Jacqueline was 5 when the first incident was recorded.

The gardener was patrolling the grounds, making his normal rounds, when he heard the innocent sounds of child's laughter, as well as his own son's laughter.

She had befriended his son, Jonathan Harper, a boy 10 years her senior, against the wishes of all the people in her life, but it would appear that he had always wanted a little sister, and as Jacqueline never left the ground, her teachers came to the house, the relationship was reluctantly allowed to flourish. The sounds where coming from the pond, surrounded by tall grass and by the ancient oak tree, where Charles had placed a swing for the striking Jacqueline.

Even at the young age of 5 it could be seen that she would be a kind of beautiful, the French blood of her mother mixing almost perfect with the strong Irish of her fathers decent. When seen singularly, the curve of her chin might be seen as too harshly cut, the nose too prominent, her cat shaped eyes a little too far apart. But seen as a whole package, the face was striking, her hazel eyes able to pierce the thickest of mental fog, her smile kind and softened the face to the point of a cashmere.

As Charles neared the pair by the pond, having to go through the tall grass crouching so they wouldn't see him, he started to heard sounds that didn't sound right. Jonathan was telling Jacqueline that it was his turn with the hammer, with Jacqueline saying no, then punctuating it was the heavy sound of a hammer hitting something with a wet thud.

Charles didn't like the sound of that, and when he parted the grass he saw his son facing him, but with his head down, something on his head, holding down a frog, splattered with the entrails of the frog carcasses that were piled beside the small stone that the current frog was laid out on.

Jacqueline had her back to him, her long black hair descending down her back in a thick waterfall, the same thing encircling her own small head, a hammer held high in her tiny hand. Charles watched as the hammer descended, his eyes following it to it's sick finish with the small pond frog exploding. Charles was frozen, but not to the point of allowing this to continue before his eyes.

"STOP!" He cried, startling the young pair. He ran towards them but skidded to a stop soon after he started.

Jacqueline froze, the hammer in midswing for a second hit. She slowly turned and Charles thought he would puke. She had taken the entrails and were wearing them like a necklace, and now that he was closer, he could see that the things on both their heads were crowns on entrails, with small flowers acting as the jewels. Jacqueline had smeared blood on her face, across both cheeks and over her mouth, in some sort of make up. Jonathan had done the same thing, making the pair look identical.

"Why?" Jacqueline asked innocently, still holding the hammer high, her head cocked to the side. "We're having fun, aren't we Jonathan?"

Jonathan grinned manically, his teeth a stark white against the red of his lips. The blood was fresh on both of them and it was dripping from their mouths, making it look like they were bleeding themselves.

_TheEndOfTheFirstPartOfThePoem_

End Authors note cause I'm to lazy to go and change the one at the beginning.

I realize that the end is a bit of a cliffhanger, but hey, that's all I got for the flash back thingy part of the story and I don't want to visit Jacqueline and Bruce until they're at the opera, and it would be best to just start the next chapter with that.

So I go back to school on Wednesday (8/20) and I'm gunna do a majority of my writing during my hour lunch, so if the next chapter smells like sweat, tears and the vague scent of freshman fear, that would be why. Not that I'M a freshie, nope, I'm a JUNIOR baby!

Soon, I'll be a part of the working class with a degree in library science. My dream is to be head librarian of the library on 5th avenue in New York City. And if that doesn't work out, I could always fall back on my minors, Chemistry and Biology.

Alright: Answer Review Time:

**_xxFEATHERSxx_**:  
THANK YOU!! It's sort of hard for me to write the separate personalities, but obviously I must be doing a good job it you say so!

**_zzzzz_**:  
Yay! I can be "mysterious, masochistic and scary" !! YAY! And thanks about the compliment regarding the Joker, I was terrified that I would destroy him and make him _**too**_ psycho ( I know...hard to do but still...) or something. It's hard getting the proper balance of crazy and funny.

And I would be friggin' **HONORED** if you could sketch something out of this mess of a story that I wrote! Just say that it was inspired my moi, and you would HAVE to post me a link or something because I would just have to see what you could artist up!

**_Quarter Queen:  
_**I like being intense. It's fun! And you get to see even more insanity! Really? One of the few OC's you like? Great! I must be doing SOMETHING right then…

**_Jenna Von Cannon:  
_**I don't really know where I was going with the pain thing, but now that you and PirateStorm bring that up…maybe I'll write that into the plot, cause I (for once!) have the entire plot in my brain. The hardest part it turning pictures and monologues into a readable story

**_Trapper Chavez:  
_**Thanks and I hope you liked this chappy!

**_Piratestorm:  
_**And here is your more!

And One more note: I realize now, after typing the entire 10 pages in word of this story, that A) Joker wasn't in it, and B) Batman's cowl and cape are connected. However, A) I have him worked into the next chapter, so you guys'll get yer fix of him soon, and B) I'm really to lazy to somehow work in a workable way to go around that fact. So just imagine that the two things are detachable or something. I'll leave it up to you Le Reader.


End file.
